Science Fiction, Double Feature
by resile
Summary: The Doctor and Rose see what's on the slab at the Rocky Horror Picture Show.


Rose's breath hitched as the Doctor strode out of the wardrobe room.

"Doctor," she said, voice a scratchy little whisper, "are you sure - that's - that's the costume you want to wear - for, for a _movie_, of all things?"

He raised his eyebrows - his painted eyebrows, high arches over the eyeliner and dark, dark eyeshadow that put even hers to shame, but that was nothing compared to the burgundy, boldly lined lips. Oh, and the platform heels, stamping towards her, legs looking long and shapely and very attractive in a confusing way in _fishnet stockings_ - and, finally, a corset - a corset - who knew a man could look so good in a corset?

"Rose, there's only one way to watch the Rocky Horror Picture Show, and that's _live_, in costume, at midnight; now, which one do you want: Janet or Columbia?"

He held a shimmery, sequined, gold and black piece of fabric in one hand and what looked like a plain white bra and a pink dress in the other; Rose gulped.

"Um, which one do you think?"

"Oh, Janet, definitely." He sounded certain.

"Why?"

He turned, placing the 'Columbia' outfit on a nearby bureau, then faced her again, expression careful.

"Well, she's blonde."

Something about his response seemed disingenuous (also, he was wearing pearls. How'd she miss that?) but she shrugged, grabbing the pink and white bundle from him and turning to head back to her room.

"Oh, and Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"If you're feeling really daring, just go for the slip and the bra. More accurate."

He followed her out of the wardrobe, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

Whatever changes she'd expected now that they were... together, dressing up in lingerie for public gatherings wasn't one of them.

-

She was feeling really daring, incidentally.

First, there was the part where, no matter her slip and bra, he was still wearing a corset, fishnets, and heels; no one would be paying a lick of attention to her. Then, there was the part where, hell, they show up in the TARDIS and leave and no one ever knows who they are, not really, so who cares, in the end?

Returning to the console room in her plain white slip and bra, she was annoyed to find he'd put his coat on over his costume even as she enjoyed the way his eyes followed her entrance into the room.

"Covering up, Doctor?"

"Well," he said, sticking his hands into the pockets of his trench coat without a hint of tension, "need the pockets."

"And why's that?"

"You'll see."

Being intentionally vague about alien worlds and the future fate of mankind, Rose could understand. A movie, though, and one that was around in her time and place? There was something grating about it. Or, there would be, if she weren't staring at his legs again, toned and shapely and almost feminine (except for the still-visible manly hair peeking out between the stitches of the fishnets).

He caught her, staring that is, and his eyes lit up.

"See something you like?" He'd been insufferably smug about his own good looks, more than usual, even, since they'd... Well.

"Maybe. You?"

"Oh, yes. Time for that later, though. We're here!"

He strode down the ramp (stomped, strutted, really), opening the door of the TARDIS in a fluid motion, the grace of which was only highlighted by his long legs and heels. Her own shoes were small, white, conservative little Mary Janes. They'd been waiting for her in her room as she'd changed. She was almost jealous.

They exited the TARDIS right into the deserted corridor of a movie theatre. It wasn't a large, fancy sort of multiplex that she might've envisioned; rather, it was a shabby little thing. She looked around at the tired, red carpet, worn along the centre, and the flickering light bulbs, illuminating dull movie posters that she thought were likely out of date (even if she didn't know what, exactly, the date was).

The Doctor, meanwhile, watched her, catching her eye and grinning, holding out his hand (clad in a fingerless, leather glove) with wiggling fingers. She grabbed it and he pulled her along down the corridor. They passed the main thoroughfare where the lobby and snack bar lay beyond, and other people started to drift in around them, heading towards the other wing of theatres.

Rose spotted a young woman in the gold, sequined outfit she'd left behind, another in a classic maid's costume, a man in a pair of white briefs and a t-shirt, and another man in nothing but a gold pair of underpants. Still, there were lots of moviegoers in regular clothes; denims and hoodies, dresses and trousers. Her guess was something like late 20th century Earth. One thing was sure: Rose wasn't self-conscious, not like she thought she would be, not with all the people in costume and heavy makeup drifting around with grins on their faces. Not with the Doctor dressed in a _corset and heels_. His hand in hers started to feel very warm.

A gaggle of girls in corsets (clearly bought from the plain old lingerie store) passed them as they entered the theatre and one tapped her on the shoulder. Rose turned.

"Slut!" the girl yelled, walking away just as quickly as she'd approached. The others laughed.

"Oi!" Rose yelled, furrowing her brow in confusion. Embarrassed, she looked at the Doctor, who was grinning rather mysteriously at her.

"Don't take it personally."

He pulled her along. Entering the theatre, they chose seats in the back, but close to the aisle. Rose sat, distracted, eyes trained on a group of patrons near the screen, one of whom was in an identical outfit to the Doctor's (minus the coat), and another who was dressed just like her. The Doctor, meanwhile, settled an arm around her, though it was awkward thanks to the immobile armrest. She turned toward him.

"So, what, we're characters from the film, then?"

He grinned. "Got it in one! You're Janet, as I said. And I'm… a doctor, you could say." He leaned in a little closer, whispering like he had a secret, and his eyebrow waggle was all-the-more pronounced due to the dark make up. "Don't want to stray too far from my comfort zone, you know."

She frowned. "You're in a corset."

He exhaled from his nose, something like a scoff. "This is the very _pinnacle_ of classic fashion on some planets. Not remotely immodest."

"Is that right? Cause we've been thrown in jail for wearing a hell of a lot more. This is classic fashion where, exactly?"

"You'll see."

"You keep saying that."

"Because you will!"

They were interrupted by a man in a shabby, black suit with some sort of bald cap on his head.

"Props?" the man asked, voice eerie and trailing along behind his words. A vending tray was slung over his shoulders, filled with stacks of brown paper bags.

"Ah! Right. Two, please," the Doctor said, shoving a few notes at the man and grabbing the best looking of the bunch.

He handed one to Rose. "Here you are. Go ahead, look inside." He opened his, sifting through it, and she suddenly wondered where his glasses had gone to; the analytical expression on his face just _begged_ for them. He pulled out two playing cards, one rubber glove, a page of newspaper, a small plastic bag filled with rice, loose confetti, and a piece of... toast?

"Okay, as expected. No problem," he said, putting the bag down next to him and rummaging through a trenchcoat pocket. "You're going to need a couple of other things."

Rose opened her bag tentatively, peering inside. Its contents were, unsurprisingly, very similar to the Doctor's. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, shoving it towards her. She grabbed it haphazardly, almost dropping it on the floor, but managed to get it in the paper bag.

"You'll need that for 'There's a Light.' On at that line, off at 'in the darkness.' Oh, you'll see. Just do what everyone else does."

"'Kay."

He continued rummaging, pulling two party hats from his pocket.

"And these."

She shrugged, grabbing them from him, and placed one on each knee.

Digging his hand even deeper into his pocket, leaning away from her so he could get better access, he pulled out a hotdog.

"Oh, and this." He held out his hand, but Rose hesitated, wondering whether it was raw or cooked and which, exactly, was less disturbing. He glanced at her and jolted with a moment of sudden realization. "You're right, of course. Not supposed to throw these anymore. Stains the screen."

He stuck it back into his pocket, then took off his coat and laid it on the empty seat on his other side.

She was going to ask what on _earth_, but then the man dressed just like him told everyone to shut up and welcomed them to the screening. Rose snuggled in a little closer, zoning out, waiting for the movie to begin, until somewhere around her the word 'virgin' registered and the Doctor jerked away from her, pointing down at her head from above. It suddenly dawned on her that he was calling her a virgin to the entire crowd.

"Honey, come up here," the man in the corset said, stalking dangerously back towards their row and holding out his hand.

Rose turned to the Doctor, confused, but he smiled beatifically and gave her a little wave goodbye, sitting back and resting his hands behind his head.

She grabbed the other man's hand, party hats falling onto the floor, eyes unintentionally drawn to his really rather bubbly bum as it bounced back and forth in the dark, leather briefs. Once she stood at the front of the theatre, obstructing the still-white screen, she looked up at the crowd. Costumed, heavily made up faces, young and not-so-young looked back at her, nearly every face lit up with enthusiasm. The Doctor, relaxed towards the back, his bloody legs up and resting on the seat in front of him, gave another wave.

Another audience member, a young man of about 20, dressed in a plaid, button down shirt and khaki trousers, stood awkwardly up front.

"Have you seen Rocky Horror at home?" the man asked in the corset asked Rose, and she met his darkly lined eyes, made up just a little sloppier than the Doctor's. Not nearly as enticing.

"No."

"How'd you get all dressed up then?"

"My, um, friend picked it for me. Said I was 'Janet,' yeah?"

"Slut!" someone in the audience yelled again, erupting into giggles. This time, Rose didn't react.

The man in the corset laughed and dropped her hand. She met the Doctor's eyes from across the theatre and swore revenge at the mischief she found there. A few others in costume drifted toward the front, settling closer to the sides of the screen and watching intently, still standing. She wondered why they didn't find their seats.

"We're going to have a contest," the corset-man said, walking over to the man in the plaid shirt and ruffling his hair.

Two girls in costume, one in that gold, sequined outfit, another in the maid's getup, joined the man in the corset, standing on either side of him. Each held a banana in their hands, with an unwrapped condom placed nimbly on the tip.

"Whoever gets it down the farthest, wins."

Rose eyed the banana suspiciously, then glanced at the man in plaid (he looked nervous), then the Doctor (he did not). Her lips quirked down in consideration - at least it was something she knew she could do. She took her place across from the woman in the maid's costume, only mildly surprised when the woman placed the banana at crotch-level and gently pushed down on Rose's shoulder. Uncertainly, she got down on her knees, mouth hovering over the banana.

"Ready?" The corset-man paused for only a second, letting out an exaggerated laugh and shouting, "of course you're not! Go!"

Figuring that rolling a condom onto a banana was probably the height of classic fashion on some planet or another, Rose shrugged, leaning forward and placing her mouth over it and rolling the condom all the way down. Standing, she glanced over at the man-in-plaid: his was only halfway down. Rose let out a triumphant laugh just as the man in the corset declared her the winner, grabbing her hand and raising it above her head.

"Congratulations," he said, "you've won absolutely nothing. Now go sit the fuck down."

Laughing again, Rose walked back to her seat amidst applause and catcalls from the audience, plopping down next to the Doctor. She leaned over, muttering in his ear. "I'm going to get you back for that."

"It's tradition, Rose. You had to."

"I promise you, Doctor: revenge."

He looped his arm around her again, the skin of his upper arm resting against her shoulder. "Oh, I'm counting on it."

The lights dimmed and the movie began. Rose's eyes widened as she noticed the costumed people, including the one who had plucked her out of the audience and the one whose banana she'd stuck in her mouth, stood at attention at the sides of the screen. The one in the maid's costume stood closest to the audience, mouthing the words as a pair of big, red lips started singing on screen.

"They act out the film as it plays. Well, mime it really. In costume. With choreography. Actually, miming it is a pretty good description."

She rested her head against the inside of his shoulder, watching, and was almost drowsy when it seemed as though the entire audience decided to yell. The line in the song had something like, "but he told us where we stand," and at least twenty people had yelled, "On our feet!"

Like that, the audience was off.

Apparently, Doctor X (was that the Doctor's costume?) was 'Doctor _X-X-X_,' and they'd be seeing androids 'fighting _and fucking, and sucking on_ Brad and Janet.' At least the bit about the 'late night, double feature _Rocky Horror_ picture show,' made sense.

When the audience yelled 'what's a triffid?' the Doctor turned to her and said, "I'll tell you one thing: a Triffid's a lot more dangerous than even John Wyndham thought," without any greater hint of explanation.

Then the narrator showed up, all bald and serious, and people shouted freely at him.

"I would like…"

("You would, would you?" someone shouted.)

"If I may.."

("You may not!" yelled what seemed like half the crowd.)

"To take you on a strange journey..."

("How strange?" one person asked, and several answered, "So strange they made a movie about it!" The narrator made a grab at a big black book and someone else shouted, "No, a movie, not a book!")

"It seemed a fairly ordinary night when Brad Majors,"

("Asshole!" everyone yelled.)

"And his fiancée, Janet Weiss,"

("Slut!")

"Two young, normal, healthy kids, left Denton that late November evening, to visit a Dr. Everett Scott, ex-tutor and now friend to both of them."

("Is it true that you eat your own shit?")

"It's true," the narrator said in apparent agreement, "there were dark storm clouds,"

("Describe Morgan Freeman's balls!")

"… Heavy, black, and pendulous... Toward which they were driving."

("Is it also true you fuck sheep?")

"It's also true… That the spare tire they were carrying was badly in need of some air, but, uh, they being normal kids, on a night out... Well, they weren't going to let a storm spoil the rest of their evening, were they? On a night out…"

("Tell me again: was it a night in or out?" the Doctor yelled, grinning, his hand around his mouth lending additional volume to his voice.)

"It was a night out... they were going to remember…"

("How long?!")

"For a very long time."

-

At least.

-

The part with the lighter was, incidentally, pretty easy to twig. They held the newspapers over their heads and the lighters up (well, the Doctor held the sonic, his solitary blue light gleaming among the tiny flames), and by some miracle no one set their newspapers on fire and Rose even remembered to turn it off at the word "darkness" (well, after the first chorus, anyway). It was genuinely weird and fun and delightful.

No doubt there'd been a lot of, quite frankly, bizarre situations Rose had found herself in with the Doctor on a variety of planets in a variety of galaxies and a variety of millenia. But there was something about doing the Time Warp in a crowded, old movie theatre centre aisle, 'pelvic thrusting,' with the Doctor behind her (she could feel the occasional brush of fishnets and skin on the backs of her thighs as her slip fluttered, so much that she'd started hoping to feel something else as well), and letting him guide her hands to her hips that first time (even though the instructions were _in the song_) that nearly trumped it all. A little shiver ran through her when Columbia sang, "Time meant nothing, never would again," and she could've sworn the Doctor gave her a little pinch on the bum in response.

As it turned out, the Doctor was _not_ 'Doctor X,' but was 'Doctor _Frankenfurter_.' Sweet transvestite from Transexual, Transylvania. She hadn't been expecting Meatloaf, or cannibalism (if eating Meatloaf is cannibalism - she made a mental note to remember that joke for later; the Doctor would love it), or, really, anything in this movie (it was a _weird movie_, no doubt about it). It wasn't until the end that she realized why he was Frankenfurter and she was Janet.

Really, it was a bit heavy handed: the intriguing, mysterious alien seducing the (blonde) human away from her boring boyfriend. Though, as far as Rose was aware, the Doctor hadn't seduced Mickey as well. And he didn't have a sexy, muscular Frankenstein creation plaything. Probably. Though who knew what was hiding in the bowels of the TARDIS?

When the film was over, the Doctor grabbed her hand, coat over his arm, and dragged her along and out of the theatre. This time it was _his_ bubbly bum she couldn't stop staring at. The fishnets, secured by garters, highlighted the pale expanse of legs which, though she had seen a few times by now, were still a novel thrill. He moved quickly and gracefully toward the TARDIS, apparently not impeded in the least by his large, clunky heels. A bare strip of lower back teased Rose, disappearing and reappearing between his leather briefs and his corset. There had been something undeniably sexy about Tim Curry as Doctor Frankenfurter. But it didn't hold a candle to this.

He turned his head for a second, flashing her a grin, and the heavy eye shadow only made him look sexier, the hours spent watching the movie blurring the lines between masculine and feminine expression in her mind until the entire picture in front of her just looked like seduction.

They entered the TARDIS and, fighting for distraction, she asked, "So is it true then?"

He tossed his coat onto the railing, then pulled her toward him, catching her and hugging her close as she stumbled.

"What's that?"

"The movie. Is it a true story? You're not gonna tell me Doctor Frankenfurter's actually based on you, right?"

"No. Not me. And as for true? Well." The Doctor tilted his head. Rose noticed a luminescent sheen in his makeup that gave her a momentary pang of jealousy. "The bit about Rocky - that was different. Rocky was really the first human-Transylvanian child. Not very compatible together as a species, not without the appropriate medical precautions. Doctor Frankenfurter saved the child's life. He was actually a proponent of human-Transylvanian relations, wanted to establish first contact, but his own people stopped him. Killed the child, then him."

She rested her fingers against the gap between his briefs and his corset and stroked the skin, gently.

"That's a bit sad."

"Yeah." His fingers tightened around her waist.

Her eyes widened in sudden alarm. "Wait! Frankenfurter... He wasn't… _sleeping_ with the child, was he?"

"Oh, no, no, no. He was a bit of a cad, the movie got that right, but, 'course not. Richard O'Brien - you know. Had to make everything sexy. Changed it around a bit."

She frowned. "And what about the guy they cannibalized - y'know, the one that was Meatloaf. If you can cannibalize Meatloaf." She nudged him with her shoulder, grinning.

"Ha!" He let his head roll back in laughter. (She knew it.) "Nah, that part's loosely based on a misunderstanding. There's a type of Transylvanian livestock that's a lot like a humanoid, except for its rough leather skin and loud rumbling." He drew out those last two words, face drifting closer to hers.

She bit her lip, meeting his eyes. "Okay."

"All straightened out?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

The air grew thick, the sudden temptation to kiss him becoming nearly overpowering. Seeming to sense it, too, he released his grip on her waist, grabbing the hand on his back and using it to tug her down the corridor. She watched his bum waggle again, hoping he was taking her somewhere she'd be able to appreciate his outfit properly.

Reaching her room, he opened the door, pulling her along until his knees hit the bed and then releasing her hand. In one swift motion, he cupped her cheek, pulled her closer by her waist, and kissed her deeply, lips sliding slowly and firmly against hers until she had no choice but to run her tongue along his top lip.

He kissed his way down from the corner of her mouth to her neck and back up again, taking a second to rub one thumb against her cheek.

"Lipstick," he said, a sly little grin on his face.

"Used to it."

She kissed him again, pulling the hand against her face down to her waist and wrapping both her arms around his neck. She nudged him, pushing him onto his arse, and went down with him, straddling him. Her slip covered both of their thighs, the silky fabric tickling her skin.

He dragged one hand from her waist up to her chest, cupping the side of her breast and squeezing gently. A bolt of heat coursed through her, settling somewhere below her stomach, and she was preparing to nudge him again (onto his back), when he moved his hand back down, grabbing her hips with both hands and breaking away from the kiss. He was hard beneath her.

"You see, that movie," he ground up against her almost idly, "it gave me a craving, you might say."

She moved her hips against him in response, warmth between her thighs increasing.

"Yeah?"

"Yep."

"What's that, then?"

He pulled her off him. She moved easily, supported by his hands on her hips, and sat on the bed. He crawled towards her, collarbones framed by the pearls and the top of the corset, face serious.

"Lie back."

She did, but stayed propped up on her elbows, watching him.

"He wasn't very nice to her, after," Rose said, all the while bending her knees and adjusting her hips.

"Oh, Rose," he said, peeling off her knickers, leaving on the slip, and nestling himself between her thighs. "Believe me; I hear a bell every single time."

Lifting the slip he leaned down and licked a line up one thigh and down the other, stroking her outer thighs gently, and avoiding the place she wanted him most. She sighed, lying back and shifting her hips a bit, hoping to encourage him. He could be such a tease.

Trailing his fingers up and down her leg, he rested his forehead against her thigh and inhaled. Letting out a groan he (_finally_) ran his tongue lightly along her cleft. She gasped, lifting her hips, and he used one gloved hand to press her down, spreading her lips with the other and licking her from her clit to her entrance and back again, over and over.

He swirled his tongue against her until she was whimpering and moving against him. Pausing for a second, he pulled the velcro off one glove and tossed it aside with his teeth. Freed, he pushed one finger into her, moving it in and out and returning his mouth's attention to her clit.

Rose moaned at the sensation of his finger stroking her inside and his tongue on her clit, and he moaned right back, voice muffled. Heat was gathering between her legs, tingles cascading down from her scalp, between her legs, to her toes, and back up again. She grabbed the hand pressing down on her hip, lacing her fingers against his gloved hand, and pulled it up to her stomach. Squeezing his fingers, she ground her hips against his mouth and hand, rhythm quickly growing irregular.

Increasing his speed, he added another finger, and she felt him rub against that spot inside, the feeling deepening, increasing in intensity. He fastened his lips around her clit, licking and kissing, the wet sounds of his mouth echoing through the room along with her gasped breaths. Moaning his name, she came, muscles clenching around his fingers, hips pressing up against his mouth, back arched.

He worked her through the orgasm, stroking her as she came down, then licking her juices from his fingers.

He glanced up at her from between her thighs. "Would it be too corny for me to tell you that your apple pie tastes nice?"

She let out a laugh that was more like a sigh, still winded as she was. "Yeah."

"Right. Which is why I wouldn't dream of it."

He crawled over her, looking incredibly smug, and kissed her. She pushed at his shoulder till he moved onto his back and climbed over him. Sliding down his body, she paused over his crotch. She ran a hand over the bulge in his leather briefs and he sucked in a breath, watching her. Rose shifted her focus onto the garters connecting the briefs to the fishnet stockings. She unclipped the two in front, then encouraged him to lift his hips so she could unclip the garters attached in the back, as well. Then, she tossed the strips of fabric over her shoulder. Next, she unbuckled one clunky heel, then the other, tossing each to different sides of the room.

Deep in focus, she slid her fingers between the top of one stocking and his leg, grabbing the seam and carefully peeling it off of him. He let out a hiss and Rose wasn't certain whether he was just _ready_ or whether the fishnets had been uncomfortable. The pattern indented upon his skin and his quick, shallow breaths provided a hint but no clear answer. Concerned, she watched his face as she peeled off the other stocking, but there was nothing but heat in his gaze as his eyes met hers.

Her first mission accomplished, Rose crept up his body, pausing at his waist and slipping one hand into his briefs. Finding him hard and ready, she stroked him slowly, once, twice, and watched his face closely, heat coiling again between her legs. His dark eyes, framed by darker shadow, never left hers even as he gasped. She grabbed the top of the briefs, then, with both hands, sliding them gently down his hips, careful not to catch the fabric against his erection.

Lower half bare, she surveyed her good work: his long, bare legs, fishnet pattern still visible in subtle indentations; cock straining, begging for her touch; and corset still covering his upper half, taut nipples just peeking over the low neckline.

She had no choice but to straddle him.

Sitting on his thighs, she dipped down to kiss him, tongue delving into his mouth, and he responded immediately, reaching over to grip her hips, fingers firm. He pulled her up just slightly, adjusting his hips, and when she settled down again, he was poking against her entrance.

She reached behind her to unclasp her bra, but he grabbed her hand as it made its way behind her back.

"Leave it on."

She gulped. "'Kay."

He left his hand on hers, pinned lightly behind her back, and she used her other hand to adjust his cock against her. The angle perfect, she sank down slowly, letting out an exhale in tandem with a deep, sibilant sound from the Doctor. When her arse hit his pelvis, she bounced up and down experimentally. Utterly full, she ground against him, rubbing her clit against his pelvic bone and circling her hips, rising up and dropping down only every few motions.

He tightened his grip on the arm behind her back, pulling her down toward him. When her face was hovering just over his, he whispered, "Is that all you've got? Might need to… build your thighs up."

Rose panted, increasing her tempo and struggling to keep her train of thought. "Well, you're a …" She gasped, leaned forward and bit his neck lightly. "...hotdog."

He grunted, kissing her messily in the hollow of her ear. "Got me there."

She quickened her pace and he met her thrust for thrust. He was moaning almost continuously when she stopped moving entirely. It took him a second to react.

"Rose." He thrust up at her from underneath, but she lifted her hips enough that he could just barely stay inside. "Rose, why?"

"I told you: revenge."

He let out a harsh breath. "Revenge later. Let's finish this first."

"But how can I, if I'm a virgin?" She sank down several centimetres, then pulled back up again until his cock was barely kissing her entrance.

"Not a virgin."

"No?"

He bit his lip, looking torn, then spat out, "Because you've seen it now. You're not a virgin anymore."

She lowered herself down, very slowly, millimetre by millimetre, then pulled back up again.

"What's that?"

"Okay! Okay! I'm sorry. Please."

She rolled her eyes, relenting, and taking all of him in. Lowering her mouth to his ear, she said, "You're forgiven."

He thrust up against her, movements shallow, and babbled. "Good, that's good. Forgiveness is very, very… good. You're a very… forgiving person. I really admire that about you. I should tell you that more. Starting now. Right… now."

Bracing herself with both hands on his shoulders, she deepened their movements as he thrust hard from underneath her. Soon, they were both gasping and she kissed him sloppily, biting his lips and sucking on his tongue.

She came first, grinding her hips in tight circles as she clenched around him, gripping his hair in one hand and the leather of his corset with the other. He followed quickly, moaning into her mouth and finishing in jerking, irregular movements.

Slowing, she broke off the kiss, panting, and taking a moment to catch her breath with her cheek against his. He caught his breath too, laughing quietly and rubbing her back. He removed the other glove, tossing it across the room, and pulled the covers up over them.

After a moment, the Doctor broke the silence.

"So you like the corset, then?"

She chuckled, moving over to lie next to him, head on his chest.

"I do, yeah."

He leaned over just slightly, whispering in her ear. "Me too. And the movie?"

"Mmm." Rose nodded against him, quickly growing sleepy. "Gotta learn the bits I'm supposed to yell. Seems more fun that way."

"Oh, it is. We'll go again. You can be someone else if you want - got the whole set of costumes in the wardrobe."

"'Kay." She relaxed against him, face pressed against his shoulder, feeling herself start to fall asleep. The last thing she heard was his soft singing, his hand rubbing gently up and down her back in accompaniment.

"Rose tints my world, keeps me safe from my trouble and pain…"


End file.
